


Stand Up

by pvtamytucker



Series: Brave [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty is only mentioned in this, Bitty's parents love him and just want to understand, Family, It focuses on his parents, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:22:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pvtamytucker/pseuds/pvtamytucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you lookin’ at now?”<br/>“Support groups, dear; for families of gays.” She scrolled through the group’s webpage.<br/>Coach put down his newspaper and sighed. “Suzanne,”<br/>She turned to him, eyes fiery like Bitty’s right before a game. “Richard, you said to let him go, and I let him go. But if you dare think I am letting him go forever, you have got another thing coming.”<br/>“Why do you need a support group?”<br/>“Because I want to understand, Richard. I… have always been told- and believed- that homosexual people… are wrong and- and can’t… don’t deserve love. But then Dicky,” Suzanne wiped at her eyes to dispel the tears and took a shaky breath. “Dicky turned out to be and… all those people came to take care of him. And they love him even though- maybe even because- he’s gay. And- and maybe we were taught wrong. Dicky left because he didn’t feel safe here. But he is my son, my baby, Richard, and I loved him before, I can love him again. I just need to understand. So please, tell me you’re in this with me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second installment of the Brave series. Short, I know, but what're ya gon' do?

            “Richard, honey, look at this here,” Suzanne pointed at her computer screen, eyes scanning the page. “They meet Wednesday nights at that little café on Jefferson.”

            “What now?” Coach looked over at his wife from above his newspaper. “What are you lookin’ at now?”

            “Support groups, dear; for families of gays.” She scrolled through the group’s webpage.

            Coach put down his newspaper and sighed. “Suzanne,”

            She turned to him, eyes fiery like Bitty’s right before a game. “Richard, you said to let him go, and I let him go. But if you dare think I am letting him go forever, you have got another thing coming.”

            “ _Why_ do you need a support group?”

            “Because I want to understand, Richard. I… have always been told- and believed- that homosexual people… are wrong and- and can’t… don’t deserve love. But then Dicky,” Suzanne wiped at her eyes to dispel the tears and took a shaky breath. “Dicky turned out _to be_ and… _all_ those people came to take care of him. And they love him even though- maybe even because- he’s gay. And- and maybe we were taught wrong. Dicky left because he didn’t feel safe here. But he is my son, my _baby_ , Richard, and I loved him before, I can love him again. I just need to understand. So _please_ , tell me you’re in this with me.”

            Coach got up from his spot in his recliner to sit next to his wife on the couch. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “Support groups won’t get Junior to move back, Suze.”

            “I’m not talking moving back. I’m talkin’ ‘bout lettin’ us stay in his life. And the first step to that is to understand- so, support group.”

            Coach stared at his wife, seeing that nothing would break her resolve. He kissed her forehead. “Alright… alright.”

            The doorbell rang.

            Suzanne wiped her eyes and stood, heading for the door. “I, uh, asked Janet’s boy to stop by. I figured, you know, he could answer some questions.” She opened the door and a tall, brown-haired boy stood on the porch, eyes downcast and hands in his pockets. “Daniel, hi. Please, come on in.”

            “Mrs. Bittle,” he greeted softly.

            “Come now, dear, sit,” She guided him to the living room and to the couch. Coach had moved back to the recliner.

            Daniel sat gently, hands clasped in his lap.

            “Want anything to drink, sport?” Coach asked.

            “No, thank you, sir.”

            Suzanne sat next to him though made to put a little space between them. “Now, dear. Would you… mind answering a few questions?” Daniel shrugged at first but then nodded, seeing the sincerity in her face. “Your mother… said you had gone to a camp. Before.”

            Daniel paled. “Yes, ma’am.”

            “And it was a, uh, camp for- gay people?”

            “To get right,” Daniel kept his eyes cast down toward the floor. “Sometimes things go wrong in our heads and we get confused. Camp fixed me right up. I’m as I should be.”

            Coach sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “And what’s that, Daniel?”

            “Straight.” He looked straight on at Coach.

            “Now do you really believe that, son?” He asked the boy quietly. Daniel startled. “What did they do to you at that camp? You’re different.”

            “I should seem so, sir,” Daniel answered, a waver in his voice. “I was wrong before-”

            “You were strong before,” Suzanne corrected. “You used to seem so happy.” She tried to catch his eyes as he looked away. “Daniel, did that camp really do anything good for you?”

            He was silent for a moment and when he spoke next, his voice was soft but sure. “It made me realize my place.”

            “Which is where, honey?” Suzanne placed a hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

            “In the closet,” He murmured. “No one… nobody understood. Mom didn’t… and I wasn’t safe… So I said it worked.”

            “So you’re still gay?” Coach reiterated. Daniel nodded. “How does one… become…?”

            Daniel snorted. “You don’t become… you just are or you aren’t. It’s the same as being straight. You don’t become it, you’re born it. The only difference is, one is accepted and the other isn’t.”

            Suzanne licked her lips nervously. “Dicky, he, uh…”

            Daniel smiled. “Yeah? He’s up north, right?”

            Suzanne nodded. “That camp… do you think-?”

            “If Dicky went to that camp, he’d come back broken.” Daniel’s smile fell from his face.

            “It was bad, dear?” Suzanne winced in sympathy.

            “Yes, ma’am. Very.” He gave a short laugh. “I reckon Dicky would be broken but… he’d build himself back up. He’s a strong kid.”

            “We’re sorry, Daniel. For what you’ve gone through.” Suzanne sighed. “Do you have any advice about how to… _handle_ Dicky?”

            “Don’t handle him. Treat him the same. Nothing has changed about him. Just don’t ask about any lucky ladies in his life,” he joked. Suzanne nodded and Coach looked at his clasped hands. “You accept him?”

            “Of course we do. He’s… he’s Dicky. He’s the sweetest thing I could have ever asked for.”

            Coach scrubbed his hand through his hair. “We… handled him poorly when he… told us. I said things…”

            “We both said things,” Suzanne corrected. “We didn’t… _expect_ that. From him. And… we don’t understand… so we said things… but- but we love him so much. We don’t want to lose him.”

            Daniel looked at each of them carefully. “May I speak freely?” At their nods, he took a deep breath. “You messed up. You did, and I know you’re sorry… But Dicky… an apology isn’t going to be enough to fix that. You want my advice? Leave him be-”

            “I can’t just-”

            “For now,” Daniel continued over Suzanne, softly. She bit her lip, silencing herself. “Let him adjust, wherever he is. Bring yourselves back into his life slowly. You need to give him time to figure himself out now.”

            “But how do we do that?” Coach asked, scratching at his moustache. How can they just… not be right in Junior’s life?

            “Keep paying for school. Send care packages.” He suggested. “Call him but don’t harass him. Call to say you’re sorry, don’t linger on the call if it gets awkward. Just let him know you’re still here, but let him be in control of it.”

            Suzanne nodded, eyes serious, a firm set to her jaw. “Thank you, Daniel,”

            He nodded back at her and sighed, standing up. “Your welcome. I guess I’ll… be on my way.” He went for the door.

            “Daniel,” Coach spoke up, staring at the boy. “If you need… if you need somewhere safe to be…”

            The boy’s face lit up with a sweet, genuine smile, eyes wet. He cleared his throat but it did nothing to hide the emotion and gratitude in his voice. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He left.

______________________________________________________________________________

            The phone rang twice before cutting to voicemail. Suzanne huffed a nervous, sad breath before focusing hard on what she set out to do.

            The beep went and signaled her turn to leave a message. “Dicky…” Her mouth goldfished, nothing leaving after that, before she sighed and rubbed at her eyes. Her voice came out softer. “Dicky, sweetheart. Your father and I… we want to apologize. What we said… what we did, was unforgivable and… and I understand if you never want to hear from us again but…” Her breath hiccupped out of her, tears already falling down her face and she just knew that her voice gave them away. “But we are so, _so_ sorry, Dicky. We love you so much and- and we want what’s best for you. We don’t… We don’t understand you, honey, and when you told us… we were scared because- because we realized that you had to hide so much from us. But we want to understand, we do, we really do so…” She sniffled hard, eyes closing. “We’re doing everything we can to. I want to stay in your life, honey, so… I’d like to, if you’d let me. And if I say something wrong or offensive, let me know and I’ll fix it, I’ll-” She cut herself off, remembering that she shouldn’t ramble, otherwise, he might not want to listen anymore. “You don’t have to call me back or anything, just… text occasionally so I know you’re safe? Please? I love you, sweetheart.” She hung up, wiping at her eyes.

            Coach came over to her and held her close as she cried. He didn’t know what to say to her. Good job? He’ll call back soon enough? He sighed and rested his chin on her shoulder. “You want a beer, darlin’?” She snorted a laugh and held her husband tighter.

            They did all they could at the moment. The ball was in Dicky’s court.

**Author's Note:**

> Next installment: Bitty settling in at Jack's and receiving the phone call!
> 
> EDIT: It's come to my attention that my "dialect" that I've used above is offensive to southerners and I am a bit surprised but I am sorry if anyone has been offended by it. I'm not writing toward any specific dialect, I just wrote using the dialects I hear around me, where I live and grew up. For example, Suzanne says "I'm not talkin' 'bout lettin'..." I'm not trying to make that "southern" or what I perceive as southern. It's something that those in my region do. We drop the "ing" sounds if there is more than one "ing" ending word in the sentence and we shorten vowel-started, more-than-one-syllable words if they come after an "ing" word. It's incredibly common where I'm from and I didn't realize that others don't do the same, not even in my same country, and that it might seem offensive otherwise. So I apologize for offending anybody. Again, it wasn't my intention at all.


End file.
